


Two Hours Off

by Scintillae (Auste)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auste/pseuds/Scintillae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man has two hours of solace in a park, with his little girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Hours Off

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from: http://makata.dreamwidth.org/614.html

The man sitting on the park bench was clad in a simple shirt and jeans, and his shoes were made for long walks, not business meetings. He drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped up his forehead and face, sighing with both exhaustion and satisfaction. Beneath his blond mustache, his lips curled into a fond smile as he watched the two little girls seated in the sandbox some distance away, hard at work building a castle. He stretched out his arms over the back of the bench, leaning against it comfortably.

Both girls had his straw-colored hair, but only the smaller one shared his dancing hazel eyes, in the exact shade. The latter pushed a dump truck carrying several shiny pebbles toward the castle, and emptied the load in front of it with a giggle. Her sister clapped her hands excitedly as if they had stumbled upon the greatest treasure in the universe.

They were playing their make-believe games again, he could tell, even if he couldn't hear their flamboyant speeches over the rolling of skateboards and the whooping of louder, more boisterous children nearby. For all he knew, he didn't exist, for the time being, in Cally and Kara's little world any more than the skateboarders and the other kids. Oh, to be young again, to be immersed in a carefree world. 

Unlike other parents who were beginning to nod off, who were chatting with other people their age, or who were intent on their gadgets, he focused on his girls, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. Cally, the older one, was strutting back and forth behind the sand castle, with a stick in her hand and a spring in her step. Kara was content to nod, crouch down, and begin filling a bucket with sand. Neither of them noticed a boy and his dog running past, or a mother chasing her swift toddler frantically as he wandered toward the jungle gym.

The man barely noticed the passage of time, even as his daughters finally walked over to him, flecked with sand and arms full of toys.

“Dad, can we get ice cream?” asked Cally, unceremoniously relinquishing her precious cargo beside him.

“I want strawberry!” Kara declared, bouncing excitedly. “In a cone!”

He glanced at his watch, at the toys being piled up on either side of him, and at his girls looking up at him expectantly.

“Please?” they begged, with pleading eyes.

There was no hesitation on his part as he shrugged and stood up, grinning.

“We've got one more hour,” he told them. “I'm sure that's enough time for ice cream.”

Cally and Kara cheered. Now that they were no longer carrying their toys, they could clasp hands with each other and dance, celebrating their victory.

* * *

One hour later, the man woke up, blinking one hazel eye. He looked up; the clear blue sky was gone, replaced by an obviously synthetic white ceiling. He was no longer wearing his shirt and jeans; instead, he was covered from neck to ankles in a gray jumpsuit, adorned with two embroidered golden chevrons each on his shoulders. Instead of sitting in a vibrant ice cream parlor bustling with life and children's songs, he was lying on a flat white mattress in the middle of the room, strapped in with large leather belts. On his head was a metal helmet with buttons on the forehead plate, and a lever on either side. Just as he was pushing this away from his head and letting it retract into a compartment in the wall, the double doors to his left slid open with a smooth, whooshing sound.

A solidly built man with flaming red hair entered the room, dressed similarly in a gray jumpsuit with two chevrons on each shoulder, although he also had black boots. As he walked, his footsteps echoed throughout the chamber, joined in by the click of the belts as they automatically unfastened, allowing the blond man to sit up from his bed.

“The virtual simulator again, Chad?” asked the redhead. “You come here practically everyday. Before training, or after training, whenever we've got time off...”

Chad nodded, letting his legs dangle from the side of the bed.

“Why?”

Chad lifted a hand up to the patch that covered the place where his right eye had been, and let out a weary sigh. Instead of laugh lines, he now had dark circles under his eyes, wrinkles and scars on his face where there had been none, and a melancholy look that never seemed to leave his remaining eye.

“I always want to remember, Rick,” he whispered, lowering his head and speaking to the flawlessly polished floor. 

“But you'll always remember them,” Rick pointed out, stroking his chin and feeling the beginnings of stubble. “I don't think you'll ever forget them.”

For a moment, Chad did not see the white chamber and its pristine walls, or his bed, or even Rick. He gazed upon an environment that wasn't there, with green grass, benches, a sandbox and other makings of a typical playground. He saw Cally and Kara again, alive and happy. 

Oh, to be young again, to be immersed in a carefree world. 

“I won't,” he said, his voice wavering as he blinked, his already limited vision beginning to mist over with tears. “But I want to remember the happier memories more. Much, much more.”


End file.
